A Snake among Lions
by erf10722
Summary: The story of Peter's sorting and how a natural Slytherin was placed in Gryffindor by his own desperation.


**Hey, this is my first time writing in the Harry Potter fandom, so here it goes! This is how I imagined Peter's sorting. (JK Rowling has rights)**

Peter shifted forward with the trembling mass towards his death. Before the high table sat his execution chair and the disheveled hat sat atop it must surely be his hangman.

The haughty Black heir with whom Peter had shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express stepped forward as if walking on red carpet and sat on the three legged stool like a throne. Black seemed to be arguing with the hat and at one point he moved as if to throw the hat from his head. After minutes of a violent sorting punctuated by truely impressive curse words from Sirius, the hat decisively shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The line inched forward another place. Potter, who stood directly behind Peter, was raucously trying to divert Black's attention to himself. When Sirius Black finally did spare a glance in their direction, his unhealthy flush seemed to fade slightly and a brave grin formed on his face at the sight of James' antics.

A half dozen more names were screeched from the hat's rip before Remus Lupin was quickly shunted into Gryffindor along with Black. Lupin plopped down on the mahogany bench next to Black and seemed to offer some consoling words because Black finally took his face out of his hands and engaged in conversation with some of the surrounding Gryffindors.

Only ten people remained to be sorted before Peter would surely die. Where did he belong? He supposed he could immediately rule out Ravenclaw. So that just left the other three. If Peter were being honest with himself, he would probably be bollocks in Gryffindor as well.

Through the haze of self-hatred, Peter barely registered the tall, regal professor, McGonagall, reading off his name. "Peter Pettigrew" rang through the Great Hall. A polite silence followed as Peter concentrated all of his energy on not tripping over his overly long robes. Grateful to have reached the stool alive and without suffering complete ridicule, Peter sat and jammed the old hat onto his head.

 _'I see you have all the makings for a_ Slytherin.' The hat's voice in Peter's head wasted no time with preamble. _'Pure-Blood, ambitious, intelligent in an unassuming, sneaky way."_

None of those attributes sounded like compliments to Peter. His father had been in Slytherin and all of those adjectives certainly described him, although Peter would personally add _stupid, unfaithful, git_ to the list.

 _'I don't want to be in Slytherin.'_ Peter whined. Perhaps while waiting in line he hadn't realized, but now her had figured it out: Peter wanted nothing more than to be in Gryffindor.

The hat seemed to have picked up on his desire without the need for verbal (telepathic?) communication. _'Ah yes, you want to be in Gryffindor. But for all the wrong reasons.'_

 _'What do you mean? I can be brave.'_ Pete defended himself harshly.

 _'No. You can fight for survival. You have the type of bravery of a Slytherin. But not the kind of bravery that protects others.'_

That must be the twinge of evil that marked most Slytherins. No one ever wanted to say it, but Slytherins were often successful because of their one minded desire to protect themselves above others. It was why Peter's Slytherin father had walked out on his family while his Hufflepuff mother had worked two undignified muggle jobs to keep her family from drowning in debt.

It was just as Pete's alcoholic grandmother always told him when he upset her; he was _exactly_ like his father.

 _'Tell me, why do you think you want to be in Gryffindor?'_ The hat inquired nosily.

Unbidden, the image of James and Sirius' unrestrained, roaring laughter and Remus' quiet, reluctant chuckle filled his head. Peter remember how James had hexed Bella Blacks ears to wiggle uncontrollably when she'd said that Peter was a squib, just like his sister.

 _'Ah. You want friends to protect you. But you won't protect them in return.'_

 _'I might.'_ Peter answered rebelliously.

The Sorting Hat chuckled almost sadly. Then he finally said, _'Peter Pettigrew, in your entire life you have never been brave or chivalrous. And you never will be. Your moments of bravery will be selfish, few and far between, and essentially, always the bravery of a Slytherin. To gain power, you are willing to put aside your entire true identity. In Gryffindor, you will be a snake among lions. You will bite at their ankles and slither away from their clumsy paws. But in the end, they are a pride and you will always be alone. And you will murder because you were foolish at eleven years old and thought you could hide. You will die because between a hoard of snakes and a pride of lions, you are welcome in neither group. You will do more damage than your father, but you will betray a bond more important than blood: friendship.'_

 _'_ Shut up,' Peter muttered aloud, 'You don't know what you're talking about.'

The hat chuckled again, _'I don't tamper with fate. Go, dress in your lion costume and play the part.'_

To the entire Great Hall, The Sorting Hat cried, almost regretfully, 'Gryffindor.'

Peter tore the hat from his hair and sprinted to the table decorated in red and gold.

-/-/-/-/-

Over the next few weeks, Peter took careful notice of what the self proclaimed 'Marauders' needed from him.

Black needed a personal punching bag. Sirius' fragile ego needed someone to always seem lesser than himself to feel better about his terrible mistakes in life. And so Peter took the abuse willingly.

Lupin craved someone to care for, like mending a baby bird's wing. When Sirius made fun of Peter, Lupin took undisguised pleasure in reprimanding Sirius and offering an arm around Pete's shoulders or a kind word. As Peter later found out, Lupin needed to feel as though he weren't completely useless and cruel as a result of his lycanthropy. So Peter allowed Lupin to give him brotherly affection bordering on coddling.

James simply required an ego boost. Someone to tell him, in no indiscreet or tacit way, that he was truely God's gift to earth. So Peter doled out compliments and respectful, reverent stares constantly.

When his involvement in the gang required bravery, he would think of his own self preservation in the social hierarchy of Hogwarts.

-/-/-/-/-/-/

As Peter stood before his master, stuttering out the address of Lily and James Potter, transferring his secret keeper information to Lord Voldemort, he thought that in a way the Sorting Hat had been wrong. Peter did not feel as though he were breaking a bond of friendship.

If truth be told, he felt an odd sense of relief to be free of his undercover role as a Marauder.

No longer would he be an afterthought; You-Know-Who had promised it. He would not have to wither, cry, or compliment to fit the needs of others. For the first time, he might be allowed to figure out his Slytherin roots. For someone who by nature was selfish, Peter had hardly ever been allowed to spare a thought for himself.

He felt a slight twinge of sadness at the thought of James and Lily's child, Harry, lying stone cold in his crib while his mother cried over his father and his dead bodies. But the child was hardly even a person yet, Peter reasoned.

A new era was dawning, and Peter almost wanted to return to Hogwarts just to tell The Sorting Hat how wrong it was. The Order of the Phoenix was finished. Peter would not be trapped in the lions paws. He would no longer be a Slytherin hiding in Gryffindor.

The Sorting Hat's prophecy would not come true. Peter would not murder. He would not die dishonored and friendless.

-/-/-/-/-/-/

Difficult as it was to have coherent thoughts while strangling himself to death, Peter managed some remorse. He was far too old by now to smugly think how wrong the sorting hat had been.

Peter would not be one of the deaths where people mourned for years. And he supposed he deserved that punishment. In a way, Peter was almost glad he would be forgotten within a generation. The only way to rest in peace was for everyone to let you go without a fuss.

He had never had any friends, and that was what truely defined a Slytherin in his opinion. But in his final moments of life, Peter felt for the first time as if he had been brave, like a Gryffindor. True, the curse Lord Voldemort had cast literally forced Peter's hand, but he was finally sacrificing himself for someone else. Like a stupid Gryffindor.

Involuntary (but not unwelcome) tears slid down Peter's cheeks.

In the end, it was Peter's nature of Slytherin that saved his life. And his constant, lifelong yearning for Gryffindor that saved his soul.


End file.
